


Trivia Pursuit

by victorine



Series: 1000 Tumblr Followers Giveaway Fics [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Beverly Katz is the Best, Hannibal has a crush, M/M, Team Sassy Science, Will and Hannibal are trivia geniuses, Will is a sassy bastard, trivia night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 04:31:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14585022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorine/pseuds/victorine
Summary: It's trivia night and Team Sassy Science has a couple of new members - Will and Dr. Lecter. Together, they're a general knowledge force to be reckoned with, so let the game begin!





	Trivia Pursuit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hannibalsbattlebot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalsbattlebot/gifts).



> A giveaway fic to celebrate reaching 1000 followers on tumblr, for @hannibalsbattlebot whose prompt was: _"What about Trivia Night AU?"_

“I… am a freaking genius,” Bev announced, raising her glass in self-celebration.

“No, _they_ are the freaking geniuses.” Price nodded across the table at Will and Doctor Lecter sitting with their heads close together, huddled over the answer sheet. “ _You_ are just cunning enough to have distracted Will with photos of puppies while getting him to agree to come.”

“Thereby ruining trivia night for the rest of us who can’t get a word in edgewise,” Zeller muttered into his drink, glaring mutinously at his colleagues.

“Careful, Brian, nobody finds sulky babies attractive,” Price warned, as Bev pelted him with mixed nuts.

What did Jimmy know, anyway? It had _absolutely_ been a stroke of genius to drag Will along, especially with Doctor Lecter practically guaranteed to come with him. Together they made an unstoppable trivia force, with Will revealing a ruthless competitive streak by commandeering the answer sheet and shutting down Zeller’s clowning around. In fact, he’d shut out everyone except Hannibal, and between them they’d got every answer right so far. Hannibal had nailed the rounds on classical music, world capitals, and flora and fauna. Will had covered American history, cars, and, unexpectedly, twentieth-century literature – causing Hannibal to gaze at him with such open adoration that Will squirmed in his seat.

Price had whispered that it didn’t seem like entirely unhappy squirming and Bev couldn’t deny it. Will was glowing from more than imminent victory, and was now sitting so close to Hannibal that he might as well be in his lap (not that Bev imagined straddling Doctor Lecter’s rock hard thighs was a hardship). She was so going to up her stake in the lab’s bet on Hannibal making a move on Will before Christmas.

“All right, you drunken bastards, listen the fuck up!”

Hannibal visibly flinched at the outburst, courtesy of the bar’s owner – a Romanian guy called Darko, who assured Bev that he and his business partner were completely legit these days (she didn’t believe it but he wasn’t stingy with his measures or with a quickie when Bev was in the mood, so she turned a blind eye). Will, on the other hand, perked up immediately, awaiting another perfect score.

“The results are in! And would you believe,” Darko hooted, “Team Sassy Science finally makes a mistake, only nine out of ten. Your boys slipping there, Katz?”

Before Bev could get an answer out, Will was on his feet. “What do you mean _nine out of ten_?! Those questions weren’t even difficult, no way we made a mistake.”

Darko glared at Will, crossing his arms to make his muscles pop in a way that Bev had to admit was pretty impressive, if childish and stupid. “My quiz, my answers, FBI boy. You made a mistake, deal with it.”

“Which question?”

“What?”

Through gritted teeth, Will repeated himself slowly. “Which. Question. Did we. Get wrong?” He and Darko glared at each other, neither one willing to back down.

“Can you guys quit with the dick measuring contest and get on with it?” Bev called into the silence, earning a round of appreciative hoots from the other patrons.

“Fine, whatever, you bunch of ingrates,” Darko glowered. “Question number eleven, boy scout. ‘What dialect is spoken in New Orleans?’ Answer’s Creole, which is not what you wrote.”

“Like fuck it is.” Will had both arms planted on the table, looking about ready to flip it. “Got rid of the accent, but I’m a good southern boy and I’m telling you there’s no fucking dialect called creole.”

“You use that language in my fucking bar?”

“What, instead of one you just made up?”

As Will and Darko continued flinging insults at each other, the rest of the team collectively took a long pull on their drinks.

“Great, Graham’s gonna get us kicked out.” Zeller looked like he was considering tackling him to the ground, but instead turned to Hannibal. “Can’t you do something about him, Doc?”

Bev hid a grin in her beer as a flicker of affronted surprised escaped Hannibal’s stoic expression.

He hid it quickly though. “Indeed, I believe I will do ‘something,’ Mr Zeller.” Hannibal stood and placed his hand over Will’s, dragging his attention away from the argument. “If I may, Will.”

Will just stared at Hannibal’s hand where it lay over his own, and nodded stiffly.

Hannibal gave him a pleased smile before looking out into the bar. “Mr… Darko, was it? I realise that my friend is a little uncouth-”

“More than a little,” Zeller groused.

“However, had you done even a modicum of research, you would have found he is correct. Creole is a term for a particular type of language, itself developed from a mixture of other languages. It is not the name of a language, though Louisiana French – the correct answer Will gave – which is spoken in New Orleans would be classified as a creole.” Hannibal raised his chin a little and looked down his nose at an increasingly infuriated Darko. “Really, if you’re not prepared to do the most rudimentary fact checking, how do you justify installing yourself as judge?”

“And just who the fuck are you, fancy pants?” Darko snarled as Will grinned up at Hannibal in glee.

Bev wondered if Darko would get the insurance payment if he was the one to start the bar fight.

“Hey, _nenorocitule_ ,” came a voice from the darkened back of the bar, thick with the same accent as Darko’s. “Google says the boy scout is right and you’re wrong.”

“Since when do you know how to use Google?”

“Adam taught me.”

Darko grunted in acceptance. “Fine. Full marks to Team _Assy_ Science. Can we get the fuck on with this shitty quiz now?”

Will blew a kiss at Darko, causing Bev to snort beer out of her nose. Totally worth it, for the look on Darko’s face.

After that, they blew through the final two rounds with ease, even Zeller pulling his head out of his ass long enough to come up with the final answer.

“The hell do you know Maryland’s state sport is jousting?”

“Misspent youth,” Zeller retorted, earning raised eyebrows from the entire group. “Oh, fine, I worked Renaissance fairs during college for extra cash.”

“In costume?” Price squealed.

“…Yes.”

The ribbing was probably never going to end.

When their victory was announced, Bev wasn’t even surprised when Will climbed onto the table to celebrate, blowing more kisses in Darko’s direction.

“Hey boy scout,” Darko yelled, “if you want me so bad, why don’t you come over here and try that?”

“Nah, I got way better options,” Will shot back, and then demonstrated by hauling Hannibal up next to him and pulling him into a kiss so filthy it was inappropriate even for this bar.

Damn, and before she got a chance to raise that bet, too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to all my followers over on [tumblr](http://victorineb.tumblr.com) <3<3<3 Come find me over there for more Hannigram nonsense!


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